


Hand of Sorrow

by Billywick



Category: Dota 2
Genre: M/M, mentions of Kael/Nortrom and Magina :D
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 09:22:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3723613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Billywick/pseuds/Billywick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war over the ancients is over. Many heroes celebrated it and the beginning of their new lives. But there are those who lose all purpose when the reason for their very being is beyond their grasp.</p><p>(this is a terrible summary. Dragonus and Terrorblade establishment fic. Others might follow.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hand of Sorrow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ziaren](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Ziaren).



> I call Terrorblade Illidan.  
> They have met but only on the field of battle.  
> Invoker and Silencer are a thing and there's nothing you can say to stop it.
> 
> also i do not endorse making deals with demons, kids.
> 
> Ah, also, i was considering something more explicit, but that would have been too non-consential for my tastes here.

He always knew that demon was trouble, from the first moment he’d seen him across a field of battle. Sure, there were other demons, dangerous foes, belligerent allies...War was a mess he did not miss, but for the sake of his vow, he would have braved the end of worlds and beyond.

War, however, ended, eventually. With death, blood, tears and pain. The price of their peace had destroyed much and left even less to rebuild.

But war hadn’t taken Dragonus’ vigor for life. No, the words from the one being he’d dedicated his life to had ended what hope he had. Shendelzare...or rather, the spirit she now was had been very clear on how incapable Dragonus was, always had been. His place was no longer at her side, his powers no use to her purpose. Vengeance was all she had left, and vengeance allowed not for the support born out of desperate, guilty love. Shendelzare had disappeared and not left a trail for him to follow this time.

Listless and lost, Dragonus had tried to cling to the last semblances of companionship that existed among those that survived the devastating war of the ancients. But even those numbers were dwindling. It seemed everyone had purpose still, lives to make anew or return to. But what of him? The Nest was a place of too much memory. He could not bear to return there, not after he’d sworn to restore the righteous heir to life. 

Oh, how he’d failed her. Again.

Wandering the darkness of the forest had become his nightly routine, whether it was to gather thoughts or memories, he was not sure.

What he was sure about though was the feeling of eyes on him. Lingering, malicious eyes.  
He felt his feathers rustle, tension running through his shoulders and back. Taking flight seemed a tempting offer, but so was the idea of confronting this stalking shadow.

“I can see your eyes glowing, Terrorblade. What do you think you’re doing here?!”

Arms wrapped around him from behind as Illidan plucked the Skywrath Mage out of the air and pulled him against him instead, whispering, “I was looking for you, little angel. How have you been?”

Dragonus squirmed in Terrorblade’s arms. Throughout the war, he’d been pretty good at ignoring how horrendous demons could be. But ever since Illidan joined the Dire towards the later phase of the battle and had taken special interest in him, the Skywrath Mage was very apprehensive towards him and his kind.

“Let go of me you heinous creature,” 

Alright, it didn’t sound as hateful as it should, but at least the squirming was all it could be,  
“and I’ve been doing fine, until you showed up.”

Illidan shook his head and buried his face in the feathers of Dragonus’ wings. Which the formerly airborne mage could have smacked right in his face at that point, but he didn’t. The demon marauder took it as one of the hints that Dragonus only squirmed for squirming reasons and not because he really wanted him gone. It was too obvious in the blush, too palpable in the gaze that would not meet in any way possible. Dragonus had the tools to fight him, close up certainly with those impressive talons instead of hands and feet. And yet, they did not attempt to claw at Illidan’s admittedly very thick skin. Whether the feathered elf knew it or not, he was intrigued at least by the intense interest the demon showed in him.

“I truly missed you, my angel.”

Dragonus rolled his eyes, but there was something tingling down his spine. How odd. Did he always feel so pleasantly nauseated by the scent of demon?

He did not squirm once Illidan faced him, with his oddly coloured skin and horns, and those brightly shining eyes. Like little hellfires, colder than ice, hotter than lava. He didn’t want to know how many lives had been ended in front of those eyes. Perhaps he ought to claw them out to keep. It was an appealing thought, but for the sake of not spending another night wandering, he humored his unwanted company.

“I told you to stop calling me that. I am not yours, Illidan, or should I still call you Terrorblade? How have escaped your brother again? I’m sure Magina is not pleased to have you gone from sight.”

“I will indulge my brother’s delicious anger, as I will indulge in seeing you,” Illidan continued his flattery. He noticed with pleasure that Dragonus’ arms were around his neck, and even if he did that only to hold himself up a little to not look all too helpless, the demon appreciated it thoroughly.

“I did not escape him, he does not know where I wander and it doesn’t interest him all that much. I went to look after your cousin for a while, but it seems he went where you wouldn’t desire to be considering your backstory. The Nest of Thorns.”

Dragonus shuddered at the mention of the place, too many memories still clamoured for his thought in regards to his old home. But still, he was in a demon’s arms, and a little too comfortable. Just another moment. Then he’d take those eyes, gouge them right out of Illidan’s smug face. He wondered if it would serve to make the demon more intimidating or pathetic. Perhaps he indulged in that image longer than he would have liked, The cruelties of war shaped any mind they touched. Except perhaps his very distant cousin’s, the elf that Illidan was referring to.

“My cousin...why have you been following him? Do you think a demon can siphon his power? Hah! You have not known the cruelties of Kael if you believe that!”

“You cannot deny he is very powerful and if you were a lesser being than you are, much more like I am, you would also be drawn to him. Why else do you think even the Doombringer lusts after him?”

At Dragonus’ shocked expression, Illidan chuckled. “You would not believe if I told you what happened in the camp when night dawned after a day of victorious battling.”

He carried the mage a little further into the nightly forest, Illidan’s hand found its way into Dragonus’ neck and he quietly said, “You would not believe it if I told you, but that does not mean I would not be wishing to show you.”

The slight widening of those intelligent, turquoise eyes was all the more enticing to him and inviting even and Terrorblade seized the moment and captured his lips in a longing kiss.

Dragonus had denied himself long enough in the face of Terrorblade’s advances. He’d always found the creature even demons feared sort of interesting, but in the light of his tragic love, he’d never considered it possible. Until Shendelzare had confronted him with Krobelus at her side and spoke of vengeance and death and leaving him behind.  
How long had he denied himself simple pleasures like kisses? He could not even remember.  
Wrong, it was wrong. At least, that’s what his mind repeated as he adjusted himself, turned the grip that could have gouged a man’s neck into a secure hold.   
Apparently, allowing Illidan the kiss was not enough, because Dragonus returned it with fervour, wings rustling as he adjusted himself on the demon marauder.

Illidan was most pleased when Dragonus returned the notion rather actively, pressing his body against him. He’d not been wrong. The winged mage had found him irritating, no doubt, and always tried to attack on his previous attempts to approach him.  
Yet, interest. Curiosity. Dragonus was young compared to many that had graced the field. A young, studious mage. How could he resist being at least a little enticed by the raw power Illidan radiated?  
After all, hell itself had deemed him a danger. Enough to lock him away to the deepest of hells.

The demon gave a low sound in his throat, one that sounded feral and longing, as if he had waited years for this moment.  
And he had, truth be told. Of course, he could have come here earlier and simply taken what he wanted, Dragonus did not have the power to stop him. But the special thing about this Skywrath Mage was that he never wanted to besmirch him or see his light darken. It was an odd thought to have for a demon. But Dragonus was the closest thing to an angel, and yet he was so very much like a demon it was delicious. Driven, obsessed, malicious in his cruelties against his foes. Dragonus might see himself a pion of light, but darkness bled through his bright feathers.

“Ah,” Dragonus seemed to have entered a haze when they’d started kissing, but he rapidly left it now as cold air hit his skin and demonic fingers were undressing him.

“No, no. You have not answered my questions, Terrorblade. What is my cousin doing in the Nest? Why did he go there?” the mage adjusted his seat to make his position more enticing to the demon, before he continued.

“Tell me what I wish to know, and perhaps I will finally give in to your relentless pursuit.”

Illidan stared at him for a moment, then he smirked.  
“You truly would make for a fine demon, Dragonus”, he said, “Making deals with me like you were born to do so. Did they not educate you to avoid dealing with demons?”

His hand wandered over the mage’s pale chest and he noticed the shudder it gave him with silent longing. Oh, this little bird would fly willingly into his cage, Illidan would make sure of that.  
He chose his words slowly, for they would be the bait to trap this treasure.

“But I will tell you nevertheless, because I have never declined you a wish… It seems the Invoker has taken an interest in the Nest. Perhaps he’s aware of what will be attempted there. Maybe he wishes to see what will surely be a spectacle. The displaced princess, making a stand for her throne, her vengeance. Perhaps he simply wants to see how she falls once more. You know Kael has a sadistic streak that would make any demon proud.”

Dragonus froze, before peeling himself away from his absurdly intimate position against the demon. There was no mistaking that he spoke of Shendelzare...making a stand? Was that what her words had meant? Another fall?

Suddenly, the memory of Shendelzare speaking often and quietly with Krobelus, the Death Prophet fluttered into his mind.

Oh no. He felt his heart began to race, and it was anything but excitement. It was dread. Shendelzare would fight for her vengeance, and die. That’s what Illidan implied. Whether or not the Invoker really had interest in that was utterly irrelevant. 

“...No. It cannot be. No, I will not!”

“And what can you do?” Illidan looked bored, even feigned a yawn, “What could you do? As I recall, last time around, you-”

“Silence! Do not speak of what you cannot know!” Dragonus’ wings had flared out without thought, a simple reaction to his agitation. He did not need the reminder to his greatest failing. Especially not from this being of darkness.

“What do you want? To mock me? Be gone then. Do not bother me with...whatever it is you want from me.”

Illidan could do no more than chuckle at the protest. Oh, it was too easy. Those glowing hellpits of eyes focused on Dragonus.

“A deal is what any demon would try to make with you. A pact to ensure the demon gets what he wants if you get what you want, right? You must know these kinds of things and truth be told, I have been involved in many deals. Here though I offer you my help without wanting anything in return.”  
He paused to look at the mage, then continued, “Or perhaps I am wrong, and you have lost all purpose in life. After all, it is only limitless power I offer to you.”  
Terrorblade straightened up, unfolded and folded his distorted wings and focused on Dragonus again,  
“What is it you desire most?”

A deal with a demon. Dragonus never thought he would stoop so low. He couldn’t trust Terrorblade’s words, he was a creature even beyond the nether realms, more repugnant than even those that terrified the lands when they reached out of the bowels of hell. 

And yet. It might be his one chance to free his heart of the greatest guilt he’d ever known.

“For my love to be restored to her form. For Shendelzare to fly again.”

Illidan paused for a moment. So that was what kept this mage so occupied all the time, so far away even when he was right next to him. That was why he couldn’t sleep even in the most comfortable of surroundings and when he slept, Terrorblade had witnessed him experiencing bad dreams. Not that Illidan had paid special attention to it...but he had plenty of reasons to stalk the enemies’ base at nights. Namely, those were family reasons, but no one knew of those except those close to Magina. It mattered not. He was getting close to his goal after all.

“Very well”, he answered, “That is not an easy task, but then again… I’ve had worse. You wish for her to be returned to her form. So that she might survive her vengeance.”

“Yes. I would give anything for it.”

“...Unwise words, little mage.”

In a sudden cloud of dark mist, Illidan transformed into a truly demonic form that was as tall as the flying Dragonus. He breathed icy mist, the very depths of the deepest circles of hell burning behind the plates covering his body.

He reached for the mage’s right claw. 

“You need to mark me so that everyone sees I’m unfree until I have fulfilled my part of the deal.”

Dragonus was still rather doubtful of this whole thing, but Terrorblade looked about as genuinely demonic as any demon could get, so it wasn’t all that difficult to believe that he might be capable of fulfilling this task. No matter what it took, right?

Dragonus’ claw shone for an instant, and he scoured a small mark into Terrorblade’s chest. Another might pay close attention to how poignant and bright the mark was, as if the demon marauder had been marked by a true angel. Hope flustered through Dragonus, and suddenly, he winged himself to eye-level with the tall demon.

“If you succeed in this, Illidan,” hope made his eyes all the brighter, “Perhaps my heart will be so light it might be free to be captured by another.”

Illidan marvelled at the sudden shine in Dragonus’ eyes. A genuine smile stretched his lips and although it looked rather horrifying in his current form, he meant it truly.

“I would gladly see you relieved of this burden, Skywrath”, he answered, “Do you wish to know of the price you must pay for this deed?”

Dragonus closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He would gladly give his life, so what did it matter?

“I would give you my soul for her.”

Illidan’s smile stayed, frozen, but the blue fires in his eyes brightened.

“Ah, not so clueless about demons after all. Very well, Dragonus of the Skywrath. I will do your bidding. And I shall return to claim my prize. I will strip it from your very bones if I have to. Perhaps you should travel to the Nest. I can tell you this; they are not prepared.”

And with that, he disappeared in a dark cloud of shadows, swallowed by the night and leaving nothing but the sultry, subtle scent of any demon behind.

What had he done? Dragonus did not know. But he knew the powers of demons. He had felt it first-hand. He’d felt it scorch others to death. If Illidan could help Shendelzare, it was worth it. Dragonus knew not how one sundered the soul of another, but it probably would spell his death. Or worse.

Nothing mattered to him anymore though. He would not fail her again.

“Restore her to her throne...I will rest in peace if only that shall be.”

The night offered him no more answer than the soft rustle of the wind in the leaves.


End file.
